Conviction of the Heart (9 page)

He pulled a pair of work gloves out of his jacket pocket. “Sooner we get started, the sooner we’re done. But I’m taking coffee out with me.”

“Anything that helps,” she agreed.

They retreated to the kitchen to fortify themselves. He found his gaze drawn to her, the curves of her body in the clothing she wore, the hint of strong muscle and yielding flesh underneath. Just as well physical labor lay ahead. Work would keep him distracted from other, earthier thoughts.

They went out through the kitchen door. The back porch wrapped around the west side of the house, but was clearly often inhabited, if the glider and the gardener’s bench piled high with pots was any evidence. Not very many signs that children lived here, though. No bikes, swing equipment or other apparatus.

“How old are your girls?” he asked.

“Fifteen and thirteen. Delightful ages.” Suzanne stacked up half a dozen clay pots, dropping a trowel in the top one as she changed the subject. “Look, this is what I’d like to get done today. The leaves raked, trees trimmed, and a bunch of the more delicate plants dug up and replanted so I can take them inside. I’ve also got a basket of spring bulbs we need to put in the ground. Have a preference?”

He surveyed the yard thoughtfully. “Why don’t I pile up a bunch of those dead branches and get the leaves raked up? Then we can see what remains.”

The work went faster than he’d expected. The warm sun made him shed his police department sweatshirt before long, and he finished his part before she got her plants dug up, even taking into account his judicious pruning of the pine trees.

“If you’d dig holes I’ll get the bulbs in,” she said, a real note of pleading in her voice. “They have to be down about eight inches to avoid the cold.”

“I know.” Nick reached for the bag, examining the photograph of the bright blooms on the front. “My mother loved tulips, too. We planted them on her grave, my brother and I.”

Suzanne bit her lip. “I’m sorry. As much as my mother makes me crazy sometimes, I wouldn’t want to be without her.”

A silence passed between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. He picked up a post-digger. “Point me in the direction you want.”

He started making the holes, and she followed after him, adding a little pinch of fertilizer and the bulb, then packing the dirt back into the hole. As they finished the plot she wanted planted, she surveyed their accomplishment, her smile satisfied.

“We make a good team, wouldn’t you say?” he asked.

She studied him speculatively. “Efficient, anyway.”

She wouldn’t even begrudge him a compliment.
Infuriating woman
.

Nick set his rake against the painted porch railing and stretched. His back muscles tightened from the unaccustomed repetitive movement. They’d been at it since ten. Now it was mid-afternoon. Twice a week at the gym wasn’t a match for hours of manual labor. He was getting old.

“Is there more coffee?” Nick asked. “If we’re allowed to have a break, that is. I hate to ruin our efficiency record.”

“Sure. I’m sorry.” She brushed dirt from her hands. “I get so…so single-minded.” Flustered, she gathered up the garden tools and shoved them in a tall cabinet next to the porch. “Come in.”

The coffee pot was nearly empty. She dumped out the remains and ground beans for a fresh pot. The kitchen filled with the aroma as she poured in the water and flipped the switch. Nick picked up the bag of beans, the side facing him transparent. He’d never heard of the brand, Coffee Fresh, but the logo indicated they came from the Windy City. He had seriously underestimated her tastes. “You order coffee all the way from Chicago?”

“It’s the best.” Her smile returned, a little shy. “A woman named Carrie owns the business. I think women in business need to stick together, you know. Help promote each other.”

She rinsed out their mugs at the sink, and Nick waited till she was done, then washed his hands, the gears in his mind turning. Women banding together to beat men, that seemed to be a common theme in Suzanne’s thought patterns. For someone so liberal, equality of the sexes would seem to be a given. Something had happened to her, something that had shifted her world view. He dried his hands on the paper towel she gave him and took a seat at the small dinette table. “Tell me, why do you hate men so much?”

Chapter Nine

“Who said I hate men?”

Where had that come from? They were talking about coffee. Suzanne’s psyche prepared to defend the perceived attack, but he raised a hand to stop her.

“I don’t mean that the way it sounds. Just not the first time you said something very similar. Makes me think you’ve been hurt along the line.”

She spoke up quickly, purposely creating distance, a skill she cultivated for moments just like this. “Everyone’s been hurt, Nick. It’s part of the human experience. I’m a big girl. I’ve gotten over it.”

He nodded, and watched her, his dark eyes piercing inquisitors.

She picked at the blades of dried grass stuck to her shirt, wanting to turn away, but refusing to give in. She should have known once she’d opened the door to her self-sufficient life that these questions would start. All she’d wanted was a little help with her yard, since the girls were gone. And she hadn’t even really asked. He’d volunteered. For yard work. That’s all.

But just like their dinner the other night wasn’t quite “just” dinner, this wasn’t exactly landscaping without strings. She was in fact a big girl, just as she’d said. She should know better.

She fussed with the cups again, and sensed at last his gaze had left her and moved on. A glance over her shoulder revealed he’d noticed the girls’ school portraits, framed in bright green, hanging over the refrigerator. He got up to view them more closely.

She’d steered conversation clear of her daughters, so far, in a purposeful way. Over her years of practice she’d seen many examples of what not to do. One of the most obvious was to keep any potential lover and one’s children separate until a relationship developed. Otherwise, the children could prematurely attach to someone who didn’t stay, causing damage to their ability to form trusting relationships in the future.

But she knew Nick Sansone wouldn’t stop with a look at some photographs. His was an inquiring mind. “The one on the left is Hope,” she said. “She’s fifteen, and an honor student. Riviera’s thirteen, and she’s in the flag corps at school.”

“They’re very pretty girls.” He winked. “Of course, how could I expect anything else?”

The comment allowed her to roll her eyes, as he’d surely known she would, and mentally take a step back. “Thank you. I think they’re beautiful.”

She poured them coffee even before the pot had finished brewing, and set cream and sugar on the table with two spoons. He took a bare half spoon of sugar. Anxious to have something for her hands to do, she focused on adding sugar and cream slowly to her own cup, the
ting
of the spoon hitting the inside of her mug soothing in its rhythm.

Long silence caught her attention, pulled her gaze up to meet his. He seemed to be mulling over something he wanted to say. She could guess what it was. Better for her to bring it up on her own terms, then slam the door on this whole line of inquiry.

“Their father’s long gone. We haven’t seen him since before Riviera was born.” Her lips pressed together.

“Incredible.” Nick glanced at the pictures again, the smiling faces clear-skinned and shining in the posed portraits. “So you’ve done this all alone?”

“We all do what we have to,” she said. As soon as the words were out, she resented herself for being so cliché. Could she act any more like a martyr?

“No wonder you’re bitter.” He dug in the cardboard box for one of the remaining cannolis.

What should she say? Hell, yes, she was bitter. But would a confession frighten him off? Such revelations had scared others away. She studied Nick’s face, but saw nothing there of hostility or worry. She guessed he was made of stronger cloth.

She should protest that she wasn’t. More polite, wasn’t it?

Besides, it wasn’t any of his business.

But she really did like him. Maybe enough.

If she was really to have some sort of future with this impertinent, handsome man, he’d know better. She bet he knew better right now. “What would be the point?” she said at last. “I’ve got more positive directions to use that energy.”

A slow smile came to his lips, and she felt she’d been…approved. She looked away, trying not to blush, not needing his approbation in any way.

All the same, she was pleased to have it.

“What else is on the agenda, counselor?” Nick made a point of looking at his watch. A glance at the microwave showed her it was nearly three o’clock. A stubborn small voice in her head insisted she could have done all this work by herself. But she would still have been cutting limbs by dark, with blistered hands. Yes, this was a much better outcome.

“Can I buy you dinner?” she asked. “The least I could do after—”

The front door opened, then slammed. The sudden sound startled her into silence. Her fingers gripped the back of the chair nearest her. Who had come into her house? Did Greg Morgan’s reach come this far? Nick got to his feet, watching her face, her reaction warning him something might be amiss.

Footsteps bounded down the hallway to the kitchen, and Riviera poked her head around the corner. “Mom, whose truck is—” She stopped as if she’d come across an angry rattlesnake, staring at the man in the kitchen. “Whoa.”

Her sister, more reserved, followed, peering over Riviera’s shoulder. “Well, now.” She eyed her mother with an arch grin. “So this is what you do while we’re not here. Invite men over to play.”

Embarrassed, Suzanne shoved her hands in her pockets. “I thought you were staying at Nana’s for dinner.”

“Too much homework,” Hope said. “They brought us home early. Gee, I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.” Her expression said she absolutely hoped she was.

Suzanne coughed, wishing she had one of those candy bars that the ads said would allow her the time to buy a few minutes to think what to say. “Girls, this is Nick Sansone. Nick, these are my daughters, Hope and Riviera.”

“Delighted,” he said. He brushed off his hands before reaching out to shake theirs. “You’ll have to excuse my casual attire. Your mother had me hauling branches and digging holes today. I’m afraid I’m just not used to all this hard labor.”

Riviera cheered, eyes sparkling. “You mean we don’t have to clean up the yard?” She went to the window to confirm and turned back with a huge smile. “Yippee!” She dropped her bag where she stood. “I’ve got to pee.” She disappeared down the hall.

Hope shook her head and snagged the bag, tucking it out of the way. The expression in her eyes was decidedly calculating.

“Nana didn’t want to come in?” Suzanne asked her.

“Not when she saw you had company. She thought it might be a client.” She turned to Nick. “Are you a client?”

The only hint of his reaction to her daughter’s directness was the slight raise of an eyebrow. “No,” he said.

Impatience in the set of her shoulders and her jaw, Hope waited for more of a response, but Nick just grinned at her. She turned to her mother, hands on her hips.

“Nick is a detective for the Pittsburgh police,” Suzanne explained. “We met at court.”

“He’s a cop?” Riviera said, catching the tail end of the conversation as she returned. She ducked over to the old ceramic cookie jar and grabbed a handful of vanilla wafers. “Cool!”

“’Cool,’ huh?” Nick said as she took the seat next to his at the table. “What’s so cool about it?”

“You’re out there, getting bad guys off the streets, and you get to carry a gun, and...and
be
somebody.”

“A gun doesn’t make you important.”

She shrugged. “Tell that to the kids at my school.” She shoved a cookie in her mouth.

“Guns at school. Ridiculous.” Suzanne sat at the table, too, awkward in this situation she’d been so cautious to prevent over the years. She didn’t want a man involved with her girls, at least not until she was sure he would be part of their future. Nick, however, seemed perfectly relaxed. How did he do it?

“It’s a problem everywhere,” Nick said. “Students feel threatened by someone and just want to even what they perceive to be bad odds.”

Hope added, “One of my friends was shot by some boy who heard my friend was out to get him. My friend didn’t even know this guy.”

“Guns escalate situations into something deadly.” Nick turned back to Riviera. “No one should carry without being properly trained on how to and when
not
to use their firearm.”

“How long have you been a detective?” she asked.

“Ten years,” he said. “And a street officer five years before that.”

“Ever catch a murderer?” she asked, captivated.

He shrugged. “Maybe a couple.”

“Wow.” Her young face glowed with admiration.

“Wow.” He half-laughed, eying Suzanne. “It’s not as exciting as you think. Investigative work is painstaking and difficult, not like on television, where everything just magically pops up from the lab in fifteen minutes.”

“I saw the bumper sticker on your car,” Hope said casually. “You’re a Dolphins fan?”

He chuckled. “I was a Dan Marino fan,” he said. “Ever since he was at Pitt. I miss him.”

“That’s tantamount to treason, here in Steeler country.” The slim girl sat back in her chair, the overhead light creating a burnished crown on her dark hair.

Nick grinned again. “I’m thrilled a girl your age knows the word ‘tantamount.’”

“Avoiding the question.” Hope looked back at him, unruffled.

“This apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree,” he said. “You remind me of your mother in the courtroom.”

Hope shook her head.

“Besides,” Nick went on, “I’ve got a confession about that. See, football was always a big thing in my family. My father and brother and cousins and everyone would gather round the TV on Sunday afternoons to watch the games together. All of them, everyone are Steelers men. So, this was my way to rebel.”